My wife is building a stegosaurus.

She’s knitting various bits and parts, but “building” is the right word because she’s going to have to put all this together at some point.

Knitting is something Connie has done for as long as I’ve known her.

My mother was a knitter, and it was one of the many things they bonded over.

I think the first knitting project I received from my then-girlfriend in college was a scarf.

It was warm and handsome, and I loved it. But there was just one problem. It stretched. So while it was perfect when I received it, the thing was more than 5 feet long a couple of winters later.

Sweaters followed.

She knit for me and for our daughters.

In 2021, perhaps spurred by the isolation the pandemic has placed upon us, she produced sweaters for all of our grandchildren: Emily’s sons Julian, 11, and Gabriel, who turned 8 on Christmas Eve, Maggie’s daughter Johanna, 8, and Sally’s daughters Bea, 3, and Cora, who just turned three months.

It was an astonishing performance in the world of knitting.

But a stegosaurus?

The idea began to take shape in October when we asked Bea what she wanted for her third birthday.

She was turning three in early December, and like a lot of kids that age, she’s become enamored of dinosaurs.

We took the hint. Every birthday gift seemed to have a dinosaur connection.

And the dino gifts were a big hit, especially the set of dinosaur bath toys that light up when you put them in water. Who needs a rubber ducky when you’ve got a T-Rex that flashes lights in the tub?

I’m not sure where the plans for the stegosaurus came from. Probably from the internet.

But I do know that the project involves lots of purple yarn. Lots and lots of purple yarn.

Why purple? Why not? Who knows what color a real stegosaurus was back in the day?

It’s also pink and will have googly eyes when it’s finished.

My job is simple: I sit at the other end of the couch while we watch way, way too much NFL football and try to keep my mouth shut. Connie knits. I watch football. That’s a pretty typical division of labor in an American household.

Stegosaurus building is serious work and requires serious concentration. The least I can do is stay quiet.

As it has taken shape, it is safe to say that the project is a little more complicated than my wife realized when she began.

Last I heard, the finished product — when all of the knitted bits are assembled and knit together and stuffed with something soft — the purple stegosaurus will measure 20 inches high.

Will it be done by the Super Bowl? The jury is still out.

But it should be finished and delivered by March when we make a COVID-precautioned visit to Bea and Cora and their parents in Bloomington.

The real question then is: What next?

When it comes to grandmothers — especially grandmothers who knit — your guess is as good as mine.